


A certain affinity

by Hypatia_66



Series: Early days [10]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: section7mfu, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Partnership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 16:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: Waverly is convinced a partnership is possible





	A certain affinity

**Author's Note:**

> LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: vivid, blue

**A certain affinity**

Partnership was like marriage, it required a necessarily intimate physical and psychological knowledge and acceptance of each other’s strengths and vulnerabilities – relatively easy to achieve between Americans, who generally had experiences and cultural references in common. These two, however, didn’t share that background and furthermore the Russian didn’t seem prepared to trust anyone with either his life or his mind.

Waverly was nevertheless convinced of the potential for his successful future partnership with Solo. All they had in common was that neither wanted a partner. They’d have to get to know each other before they could be sent out into the field. Oil and vinegar did mix if shaken hard enough.

oo000oo

Napoleon walked into the gym flexing some stiff muscles and looking around for some comradely sparring. It was deserted but for the little Russian he’d agreed to be partnered with. He stripped to greater advantage than looked likely when he was clothed and was using the punch bag to some effect. Underneath his ill-fitting jacket was a lithe body, all muscle and no spare flesh. In the face of such wiry energy, Napoleon was conscious of his own more comfortably filled skin. Apparently unobserved so far, he leaned against the wall and watched. Kuryakin danced on his feet like a cat and his hits, also like a cat’s, were fast, accurate and vicious. The muscles in his back and shoulders stood out, but he was barely breaking a sweat.

Then he stopped and looked straight at Napoleon. He’d known he was there from the moment he came in. He said nothing, just waited. There was a slight sheen on his brow dampening the blond hair that fringed it.

“Care to spar with me?” said Napoleon. There was a flash of vivid blue from surprised eyes.

“All right.”

They were evenly matched but the lighter man was quicker on his feet. It was clear he was pulling his punches so Napoleon raised one hand to call a halt. “No need to treat me like porcelain,” he said.

“Very well.”

And now Napoleon found himself really fighting to defend his comfortable flesh from a fast and furious assault. Whether it was luck or a stylish right hook, he wasn’t sure afterwards, but he struck a blow that caught Kuryakin on the temple and knocked him out. He would have collapsed in a heap on the floor had Napoleon not caught him in his arms, slightly alarmed at having actually hurt the man. He lowered him gently to the floor, supporting him against his knees and slapped his face to bring him round.

The blue eyes opened muzzily and looked up at him.

“Are you OK?” said Napoleon.

“I’m fine… Do you want to carry on…?” but his eyes rolled up and obviously it wouldn’t have been quite chivalrous to say yes.

“You wait there a minute, I’ll get you an icepack – I’ve given you quite a lump there, my friend.” Napoleon left him propped against the wall looking very much the worse for wear but on his return a few minutes later, he’d gone. Napoleon looked around in surprise and then heard laughter coming from the showers.

The Russian was being held down as a group of young men took it in turns to throw cold water over him. He was gasping and struggling, only half conscious. Napoleon marched in and said quietly, his voice venomous with rage, “Just what the hell is going on?”

They jumped back, startled, and laughed as Kuryakin collapsed. “Just waking up the Little Red, Mr Solo. We found him sleeping on the job.”

“Clean up this mess, then get out of here and report to Mr Waverly in half an hour.”

They stared at him, wondering if he was serious. “I mean it. Clean up and get out. I’ll see you in Waverly’s office,” he repeated and they went sheepishly to find mops.

Napoleon brought a towel and knelt beside the shivering Russian. “Here, let’s get you dry.”

“You’re very kind but I can manage,” he muttered, trying to sit up.

Napoleon half lifted him back onto his feet and with an arm round his waist helped him to a bench where he sat wrapped in the towel, the icepack held to his head. The other men returned and started to clear up the mess, not looking at the two men on the bench.

When they had gone, Napoleon took both locker keys and retrieved their clothes. Kuryakin had recovered enough to dress himself though Napoleon had to tie his shoelaces for him.

“Now, you come with me, my friend. We’re going to see Mr Waverly.”

“No! There’s no need!” Kuryakin said, agitated.

“I’ve sent those others to see him. He’ll want to talk to you … yes, I mean it. Nothing’s going to happen to you – is that what you fear?” And taking his arm, Napoleon led him out to the elevator to Waverly’s domain.

oo000oo

Waverly was a little annoyed to be disturbed about practical jokes between agents until he realised who was involved, then he allowed Miss Rogers to send them in.

Napoleon, his hand still clasped round Kuryakin’s arm, led him in and made him sit down. He himself remained standing to explain why they needed to see him. There was an embarrassed protest from the Russian which they both ignored.

“I see. Thank you, Mr Solo. I shall speak to the other men when they arrive. There is no need to wait. I suggest you take Mr Kuryakin for a reviving cup of tea.”

Kuryakin rose and joined Solo at the door. Mr Waverly, observing a certain affinity of body language between them, said, “I’d like to see you both in my office tomorrow. I have a job for you.”

They turned as one, glancing at each other, eyebrows raised. Waverly smiled and waved them away.

In the corridor, Napoleon said, “So, tea?” and added, “and maybe dinner later?”

“Don’t you have a date?”

“How did you know…? Well, anyway, I can change it. She won’t mind.”

“Then, yes, I’d like that.” Kuryakin’s face remained serious but there was laughter in the blue eyes.

**ooo0000ooo**


End file.
